Nature Versus Nurture 2: Operation Apollo
by The Master Planner
Summary: How can you find your own identity…when you’re a clone of someone else? That’s what Octavia Jones wants to find out. And what are the evermysterious Agent Carlyle and her biological “genetic template” doing back in her life?
1. puberty

Nature Versus Nurture 2: Project Octopus

How can you find your own identity…when you're a clone of someone else? That's what Octavia Jones wants to find out. And what are the ever-mysterious Agent Carlyle and her biological "genetic template" doing back in her life?

Chapter 1: It's the puberty, stupid

Octavia Jones, carrying her backpack, was on her way over to the table where she and her friends Jordan Nicholas and Daisy Gatsby usually sat when they had breakfast at McDonald's every morning. She moved with the slight awkwardness of one who has grown very much in a very short time, and still needed to get used to it. Octavia made her way to the girl's restroom.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she tousled her hair, which was a shaggy, handsome chestnut. She had large, deep brown eyes with long, dark lashes, and a strong chin. She wiped her sunglasses off, adjusting them on her long, straight nose. She looked exactly like her biological father…

"Oh hell, who are you kidding?" Octavia muttered to herself. "You don't _have_ a father. He's the guy you were _cloned_ from."

Making sure that Brittany Gibson, her rival whom she had always disliked, and her cronies were not around, Octavia shrugged off her long brown trench coat. The pincered tentacles she had borne on her back from the age of twelve, steel trimmed in metallic magenta, reared up over her, relieved to be free from under the heavy coat. They were freakishly powerful, monstrous, and terrifying, but at the same time satiny smooth, beautiful, and perfect. They were a paradox, a gift and a curse.

There was also an inch-wide birthmark on Octavia's right shoulder, a tiny, dark brown octopus. This was the final mark of her rather weird origins.

Octavia finally pulled her coat back up and made her way to Jordan's table, retrieving an Egg McMuffin on the way.

"What's wrong with you?" Jordan asked. "You're walking funny."

"I feel funny too. Ever grew from five-one to five-ten within two days?" Octavia muttered.

"Can't truthfully say I have," remarked Jordan. "I'm five-five."

"You know, I recognize the signs," Jordan continued. "You're going through another puberty."

"Puberty! That and—" Octavia still could not bear to speak his name. "Him. Are those two _all_ you ever think about?"

"Nope," said Jordan. "I recognize the signs. My brother Morgan's going through puberty now. He's growing really tall really fast, his shoulders are growing broader, his arms are growing bigger, his hands and feet look too large for him, and his bones are getting thicker. Just like what _your_ body's doing. Right? I can see where your trench coat's getting tighter."

Octavia uneasily agreed. She looked down at her hands—they _had_ seemed unusually large and heavy lately. "I'm going through—a _male_ puberty? I'm not gonna grow a mustache, am I?"

"Nah. You have two X chromosomes. You're genetically all woman. But all the rest of your genes you share with a _man_. You were cloned from a _man_, and a very _hot_ man at that…"

"Jordan!" Daisy Gatsby now arrived at the table, shaking her long black braids. "I though you said you weren't going to talk about the good Doctor like that after what we went through with Octavia!"

"Aw c'mon," wheedled Jordan. "We always talked about our crushes before."

"Yeah, but he's like, her biological father or something. Even closer than that genetically. You're, like, grossing the poor girl out or something."

"Well, okay." Jordan agreed. "But that male part of you is probably where it's coming from. And you're a clone, so I don't think normal biological processes apply." Her loyalty to her friends Octavia and Daisy was unbreakable and her faith in mankind unshakeable. Although two years ago, that faith in her fellow man was severely shaken.

When the three of them were twelve years old, Jordan and Daisy noticed something was a little—odd—with their friend Octavia. When their old English teacher told them to write an autobiography, information about her biological parents was suspiciously missing. An enigmatic, dark-haired man was hired as the new vice-principal. Octavia's spine mysteriously began to itch and a tiny, octopus shaped birthmark appeared on her back.

And that was only the beginning of the ordeal. Of course, there were answers. Just not the ones one would expect: their friend was at the center of a wide-reaching conspiracy of politicians and scientists.

Octavia had no parents; she was a clone, an almost exact genetic replica of a very infamous, powerful supervillian. The scientists who had created her had grafted a sophisticated computer interface into her spine to accommodate the robotic tentacles which were the source of the supervillian's power. The birthmark was a tattoo to distinguish her when she was to be plucked from her stable adoptive home to complete the experiment. The mysterious vice principal was actually a CIA agent who did the dirty work, which included blackmailing Jordan, and when that didn't work, shooting her.

Octavia found safe haven in Jordan's house, but both girls still bore the scars of their ordeal; one had four tentacles grafted on her back, one had the scars of two bullet holes in her chest.

Jordan looked at her watch. "7:30, we ought to be heading off."

The three then paused at the two giant steel structures lining the entrance of Shylock High School.

"Aw damn, I forgot to tell you!" Jordan said. "They were installing metal detectors at the school!"

"What the hell for!" Octavia yelped. Two years—and now her deformity would be inevitably revealed to the whole school.

"You know, 'cause of nine-eleven, Columbine, all that. People are worried. And yeah, I know what you're thinking," Jordan replied.

"And just _what_ am I thinking?" snapped Octavia.

"You're thinking as soon as you go through those things your ten—appendages are going to set them off." Jordan began thinking. Jordan's hallmark was her long, wavy blonde hair, but there was absolutely no reason to call her a dumb blonde. "There's more than one way to skin a cat!"

Unfortunately, the principal, Dr. Jacklyn Hyde, caught Jordan and Daisy trying to crawl through the window.

"Did you hear the new rules? The only place you can enter and exit the building is through _that_ doorway." She pointed towards the metal detectors.

As soon as Octavia passed through the metal detectors, she heard just what she was most afraid of: a high-pitched _beep_. Everyone crowded around to see what the commotion was.

"You'll need to take off your coat and empty your pockets," the security guard informed her.

"Aw shit," Octavia muttered.


	2. revealed

Finally, the next thrilling chapter of NVN2 is up! Off to the reviewers!

To Crys Skywalker: Glad you are.

To moonjava: Thank you.

To LadyKayoss: I can't either. But Octavia's a _clone_, so normal biological processes don't apply.

To K9: Yup.

A new bad guy (or girl!) is introduced...Agent Carlyle gets Octavia out of a jam, again...the government's secret plans for Octavia and her, uh, biological genetic template are revealed. Read and review!

Chapter 2: Out of the Closet

"Well…"

"I repeat: take off your coat, please." The security guard demanded.

Octavia shrugged off her brown trench coat, revealing her four tentacles. A collective gasp rose from the crowd of students gathered at the doorway.

Dr. Jaclyn Hyde pushed her way through the front of the crowd. "What is the meaning of this, Octavia Jones?" she inquired. "This isn't Halloween. Take those things off _right now_."

"But Miss Hyde…I _can't_."

"What do you mean you _can't_?"

"They're permanently welded on there, ma'am."

"Okay, Miss Jones, you're risking a suspension for bringing weapons to school, insubordination, and lying to the principal!"

"She is _not_ lying! I know the truth!" shouted Jordan.

"Miss Nicholas, stay out of this! Miss Jones, I think a week's suspension is in order, and possible expulsion. I can't let people with humongous tentacle things on their backs in this school."

A quiet voice spoke behind them. "I beg to differ, Dr. Jaclyn Hyde."

A slender, black-haired man in a black suit pushed his way through the mob to confront the principal. "Would you please be kind enough to send everyone but Miss Jones, Miss Nicholas, and Miss Gatsby away?"

"No need to sit and stare," Jaclyn barked. "Go to class! Not _you_, Jordan and Daisy. Get over here."

When the lawn was completely cleared, the black-suited man flashed a badge and identification card. "I am Agent Carlyle of the CIA, in the Subdivision of Scientific Intelligence. I can personally vouch that I know these three girls, and I have been studying Miss Jones for years. I can also personally vouch that those tentacles are, indeed, permanently welded on there."

And Jaclyn Hyde thought she'd seen it all. How could a card-carrying CIA agent know these three girls?

"I am ordering you to keep quiet about this, and let Octavia Jones return to class."

"But the safety of the other students—"

"I assure you that she can control them. Can't you, Octavia?"

"I'll try, sir."

"I can also tell you that if you try to expel her, that's discrimination under the Americans With Disabilities Act, and you will also have my personal displeasure to deal with. If you have any questions, you may call the number on this business card. Good day to you, ladies."

Jaclyn stared at Octavia. "Miss Jones, you have friends in very high places, it seems. Now get to class."

"Carlyle himself!" Jordan whispered. "I thought we'd seen the last of him! They said that Project Octopus was terminated!"

"Maybe they reopened it and they're trying to capture Octavia to study again."

"I don't know," Octavia said. "I get the feeling he's here for a different reason."

"Like what?" Jordan asked.

"_I have new information on Project Octopus."_

_The new Director of the Subdivision of Scientific Intelligence fiddled his cigar about. He lit it, and put it in the corner of his mouth, savoring the flavor. So what if it was manufactured in a country where severe economic sanctions were still in place? So what if, twenty years ago, he had experimented with exploding cigars to kill the dictator of that same country? One of life's little ironies._

"_Mr. Director…did you hear me?"_

"_Review the files on Project Octopus, Agent Cypher." _

_The agent known as Cypher, an agent at the SSI for only two months now, brushed her medium-length brown hair back with a slender, long-fingered hand. With the other, she made her way to a file cabinet._

_Project Starlet, subject Marilyn Monroe. Project Dream, subject Martin Luther King, Jr. Project Psychedelic, subject John Lennon. Project Lothario, subjects John Fitzgerald and Robert Kennedy._

"_Wait a minute…you're in the assassinations section. The scientific projects section is the drawer below that."_

_Project Moonrock, concerning the falsification of a moon landing. Project Roswell, concerning the cover-up of proof of extraterrestrial life. Project Acid, concerning the manufacture of a drug that could be used to control the teenage population, commonly known as LSD. Project Retrovirus, concerned with the manufacture of a virus that could easily and quickly send millions of enemy troops to a painful death, later known as HIV or AIDS. These secret files would be all the proof any conspiracy theorist would need, if only the stupid American masses would only pull their heads out of the sand and realize what their own government was pulling on them._

_Project Octopus, concerning the reproductive cloning of a scientist and supervillain, also gifted with certain attributes to make said clone the forerunner of a "master race" of super-soldiers._

"_Got the file. We convinced a psychologist and researcher, the late Doctor Grace Morrison, to do some research, ha ha, on the psychological theory of 'nature versus nurture.' We extracted DNA from the genetic template and followed a similar procedure to that of the cloned sheep Dolly. We were able to produce a fully functioning clone, except that the genetic template is male and the clone is female."_

"_Wasn't there something involving artificial robotic arms?"_

"_Yes. The genetic template was the famed physicist Dr. Otto Octavius, also known as the super criminal Doctor Octopus, hence the name of the project. He invented the arms—or at least the original prototype."_

"_Arms, eh?"_

"_A set of four tentacle-like metal arms, attached to the wearer by means of a harness worn around the back."_

"_Come to think of it, I've heard of the guy…seen him in a movie once."_

"Spider-man 2_ is the sugar-coated version, if you will. "_

"_But the human body isn't even wired for any extra limbs. How did you manage to turn this clone into a human octopus?"_

"_By use of stem cells the embryo was grafted onto a suitable computer interface capable of providing sensory feedback to the developing nerve cells. She was born—no, created—to be a human octopus. The clone was later given up for adoption to a carefully selected family."_

"_Did you put the arms on her, or what?"_

"_We did. However, she became angry and murdered Dr. Morrison."_

"_Well you know if the clone didn't kill her we would have suicided her anyway…can't have her going out and blabbing, can we? Did you monitor her? Bring her in for study?"_

"_Of course. Agent Carlyle's efforts to recapture the clone were complicated y the clone's childhood friends, two girls by the name of Jordan Nicholas and Daisy Gatsby."_

"_That's when the shit really hit the fan and Project Octopus was discontinued."_

"_Actually, it was just put on the back burner."_

"_Start the monitoring process again, Cypher."_

"_Agent Carlyle recommended the clone have a chance at a normal life. He said the Project should be totally terminated. He said we were playing God with humans and we'd finally crossed the line."_

"_Which is why Carlyle's pushing papers in the mail room and off the high-sensitivity projects. He turned a classified project into a tabloid scandal. Post 9-11, we _are_ God. We—and our eternal vigilance—are all that's keeping that raghead bin Laden from flying a plane into the Golden Gate, got it? If that clone and the technology she has on her body gives us the chance to kill a thousand more insurgents for the war on terror, it's worth every damn penny."_

"_Not to be disrespectful, but I still don't see how cloning a supervillain is going to win the war on terror."_

"_Artificially intelligent tentacles that have night vision, crawl across sand at 50 mph, throw a military tank in the air, and alert a soldier to changes in his surroundings! As soon as we capture the genetic template, take his blueprints for the actuators, and kill him and his clone off, those amazing arms will be on the backs of every soldier in the US military! Life is like a chess game, Cypher! Sometimes you have to sacrifice a couple of lousy pawns to save the king!"_


	3. monster

To the reviewers, please...

To K9: Since _when_ has the government let _anybody_ alone?

To moonjava: Thanks.

To LadyKayoss: I can't imagine what would happen if _I_ was the subject of a top secret CIA experiment.

To Agent Silver: You will find out what happened to our favorite mad scientist soon enough.

To Pheonix Master: Hope so!

On to the next thrilling chapter! Read and review!

Chapter 3: The Monster Inside

Well, Jaclyn Hyde could keep it quiet, especially when a card-carrying CIA agent told her to. Unfortunately, some people could not keep secrets as well as the principal of Shylock High School.

Brittany Gibson, for example. She was the polar opposite of Octavia: rich, beautiful, popular, with only two arms, and a _complete airhead_.

The Queen Bee swaggered through the hall, mostly empty after school, as if she owned half the school and held a mortgage on the other half. The other Queen Bees of the school, Brittany's cheerleader cronies, wearing outfits identical to Brittany's except for a few insignificant details, strutted behind her, all reveling in the attention and looks of longing they knew the boys were giving them.

Brittany paused, her eyes lighting on the one girl she detested most in the world: Octavia Jones.

"Well if it isn't Octavia Jones, the little Lady Octopus," Brittany mocked. Her closest female crony Heather Cannes held up Brittany's latest gimmick, a cue card that said _Snicker and laugh_ on it, prompting the other cronies to do exactly that.

"Well if it isn't Brittany Gibson, the little phony snob," Octavia replied.

"I mean you walk around the school like you're somebody _important_, Octavia," Brittany continued. Heather held up a cue card that said _Nod in agreement_. "Well, I think you're just a little attention-starved science nerd with megalomania."

Octavia was fuming. "Ignore her, she's jealous," Jordan whispered in her friend's ear.

"Did you say I was _jealous_ of the little geek, Jordan?" Brittany smirked. "I don't know what you think, but I just don't think that being the clone of a psycho super criminal and having four honking metal arms sprouting out your back makes you that special myself."

Octavia was struggling in Jordan's firm grasp on her shoulder. "Fighting in the halls isn't worth it, Octavia!" Jordan shouted.

"I do think Dr. Hyde should have expelled you," Brittany further taunted. "You know, I saw _Spider-man 2_—not because I'm into that comic book crap but I think Tobey Maguire's hot—and you're his exact clone, we really don't need to have you building miniature suns in the science lab—"

With unprecedented strength, Octavia jerked out of Jordan's grasp—

"—and running out on lunch hour to rob banks—"

"Shut _up_, Brittany!" screamed Jordan. "No one talks to my best friend that way!"

"—and planning to take over the world during study hall—"

"I don't need you to defend me, Jordan—"

and Octavia threw off her trench coat and attacked Brittany with full force.

If the tentacles could fling a cab through a wall they certainly had no trouble doing the same to the cheerleader. The cronies watched, not about to break their nails to defend their leader.

Brittany screamed as her body hit the lockers full force. "I knew it, you little freak—"

A tentacle grasped hold of Brittany's shirt, lifting her far above the floor. At the same time Octavia's lower two grasped the floor and extended, bringing her face to face with Brittany and far above the crowd. "Care to repeat that a little _louder_, Brittany?"

"I _said_—you're a little _freak_!"

Maybe she shouldn't have. The tentacle slammed her into the lockers, again and again. Jordan, Daisy, and the cronies could only watch in horror as the monster in Octavia was unleashed.

Finally, a fifteen-inch blade popped out of the upper left, slashing Brittany's face one, two, three, four times. Brittany's face would be forever and visibly scarred. And the loss of Brittany's physical beauty was emasculation in the culture of the Queen Bee.

Octavia cruelly snarled as she stood above her bloodied, beaten, adversary. Then, she picked up her coat and walked away, with one message to her friends.

"Don't follow."

"_I have a spy posing as a new student at the school. She is dutifully gathering information on the clone."_

"_And what information has this spy gathered?" The Director began drumming his fingers on the desk._

_Agent Cypher referred to her files. "Since the biological template is a male, the clone naturally has a higher internal level of testosterone than a normal female. Her physical strength, discounting the tentacles, is comparable to a grown man's. Her intelligence is above genius level. She is far more aggressive than a normal girl of her age. She could grow violent."_

"_So that means we pretty much answered the question of nature versus nurture Grace Morrison was working on. The clone would be far too unpredictable and independent for us to control as a human weapon. You need to eliminate the girl before she hurts somebody. She is an imperfect prototype—we will learn from our mistakes and build a better one."_

"_Not to be disrespectful, sir, but she is a human being."_

"_Now you're saying the same things Carlyle did. Sometimes you have to sacrifice some things for the greater good, Cypher. This isn't even a human being we're talking about here. We're talking about government property, a clone that we created, an experiment to be used for our own purposes. Comprende, amiga? What do you do with a defective equation? Erase it from the board and write a new one." _

"_Of course, sir. Now, about the genetic template—"_

"_You eliminate him too. Face it, Cypher. Octavius is a murderer and a criminal who would be on death row if he didn't keep escaping. Perhaps we should have chosen another genetic template."_

_That day, a new entry was filed under the assassinations section: Project Apollo, subject Dr. Otto Octavius._


	4. carlyle

Time to attend to my loyal minions...er, my reviewers...

To moonjava: Thanks.

To LadyKayoss and Agent Silver: Don't we all dream of doing that? I think _every_ school has a Brittany Gibson or two. They make surprisingly good tentacle targets!

To K9 the First: Funny, 'cause the CIA invented 'acid', didn't they? Of course, Doc Ock will put up a fight...stay tuned.

To Phoenix Master: Are you just _trying_ to get spoilers or something? Keep reading!

Sorry for the short chapter, I've been grounded. Read and review!

Chapter 4: The Return of Carlyle

As Octavia walked out of the hallway, a familiar, black-suited figure jumped out from behind the bushes.

"Carlyle!" she breathed.

"No, but since you know me by that name, that is what you may call me," Agent Carlyle said. "Don't expect me to cover for you again!"

"What?"

"I saw what you did to that blonde girl! I managed to get Brittany Gibson down to headquarters. By the time the memory wipe is finished, she will believe that she had just suffered from a disfiguring, but nonetheless minor, accident which _certainly did not involve human octopuses._"

Somehow Carlyle knew Octavia better than she knew herself. "I didn't think—"

"You are certainly right. You _didn't_ think. You have to learn to _control_ them, for God's sake! You can't expect me to rush to the rescue all the time! My reach is now very limited."

"Your reach—"

"I was nearly expelled from the SDSI."

"The what?"

"The CIA Subdivision of Scientific Intelligence. The agency behind your creation."

Octavia just stared at him.

"My God, girl, you are supposed to be a genius. Do you think the only reason someone would clone one of the most powerful and deadly super villains around would be for some kind of psychology experiment! Do you have _any_ idea at all why I was ordered to bring you in for study two years ago?"

"No, Carlyle. Enlighten me."

"I will. Don't you recognize the significance of that octopus birthmark on your shoulder blade? You are marked as Cain was marked, an outcast from normal society. You were created to become a human weapon, an ancestor of a damn near unbeatable master race of super-soldiers. They had the chemicals lined up at headquarters. They wanted to enhance your natural abilities further. To further enhance your strength and intelligence, to sharpen your vision and hearing. The experimental formulas came from some New York company called "Oscorp" that the government's running shady sales with."

"So what should I do?"

"Know that you cannot run away from it. No matter where, they will find you. You must learn to defend yourself. Use your strengths—and your faults."

"My faults?"

"Yes, your faults. They will come in very handy, I think. Goodbye for now, Octavia."

She turned around, but Carlyle was gone.

Meanwhile, Brittany Gibson gazed at her ruined face in her bathroom mirror.

"I know she did it…the little freak…I don't know when or how, but somehow I know she did this to me…"


	5. original

I just want to thank all my readers or their sympathy and for bearing with my grounding and writer's block. As you see, this is the lastest chapter of NVN2; be warned that updates might still be sporadic.

Happy reading and review!

Chapter 5: The Genetic Template

"_Status of Project Octopus, Cypher?"_

"_She has been spotted at the Galleria Mall with Miss Nicholas and Miss Gatsby."_

"_Status of Project Apollo?"_

"_In progress."_

_Agent Cypher of the Subdivision of Scientific Intelligence of the CIA trained the sight of her sniper's rifle. _Eat lead, Octavius, _she thought. Cypher had no family now. The eight-limbed villain was the reason—or at least part of it._

_Her mother was a brilliant neurosurgeon. The last patient she had ever worked on was a scientist, a nuclear physicist, brought in bearing unusual, even freakish injuries. Four robotic remote manipulator arms, part of his laboratory equipment, fused right on his back._

_The arms came to life, and the last thing Cypher's mother saw in her life was a long blade popping out of a long, pincered tentacle. She had fought bravely, swinging a chainsaw at the monstrous machine. But she was ultimately no match. Doctor Octopus had killed her mother. _

_The lens of one tentacle focused on the window where she was perched. _Great, he saw me.

_She started shooting again. The villain carried bags of money with his real arms, and the police were in hot pursuit._

"What happened back there with Brittany?" Jordan asked.

"I don't remember much of it."

Daisy Gatsby was incredulous. "You mean you clobbered the Queen Bee and you don't even remember?"

Octavia looked up at the new billboard. It was for designer sunglasses, and depicted a huge pair of blue eyes behind equally huge yellow-tinted sunglasses. The odd thing was no matter how or from where you looked, the eyes were always staring right at you.

"It's like I…lost control. Like someone or something else took over."

Daisy goggled at Octavia.

"You mean…the tentacles are taking over your mind?"

"My mind is brilliant by human standards, but still incredibly slow compared to the artificial intelligence of the actuators. I could be vulnerable to them."

Jordan was still laughing. "My god, Brittany almost peed her pants! She _deserved_ it, picking on us for years…"

"Jordan," gasped Daisy, "Octavia could've really hurt her! We're lucky Carlyle went and performed the memory wipe—"

"And if she remembers?" asked Octavia.

"She won't."

_Officer Sienna Taylor held a handgun in one hand and a bullhorn in the other. She stood at the head of a group of officers, each kneeling at their cars._

"_Look…if it isn't New York's finest," the villain mockingly snarled._

"_Octopus, surrender with your hands—er, arms—up, all of them!" she shouted through the horn._

_The villain turned to face the officer. "Aw, where's the fun in that?" he laughed._

"_No, Barnes, stand down—" _

_Taylor's partner had already started shooting too soon. Like sharks at a feeding frenzy, the other officers fed off each other, shooting too. _This is not how a negotiation is supposed to go!

_But the mad scientist merely raised himself up on his two lower tentacles, while the two upper arms wrapped around their master, forming a shield of unbreakable metal. _

_Cypher loaded her rifle and took her place by the officers. "Stand down! This one's mine!"_

"_And just who the hell are you?" Taylor snapped._

_Cypher flashed an identification card. "Cindy Cypher, CIA, Subdivision of Scientific Intelligence." She smiled. "I'd tell you about what I do there, but then I'd have to disappear you."_

_Taylor looked at the agent, eyes narrowed. "Octavius is _my _catch. After this batch of crimes and the increasing unreliability of the 'super-hero' Spider-Man, the mayor has said capturing the tentacled terrorist is a priority."_

"_Same here."_

_Taylor rolled her eyes. She was not given to conspiracy theories. She did not have time for that. "What do the Feds want with him?"_

"_Classified, officer. Not at liberty to say."_

_Doctor Octopus swooped down, capturing a young girl in a long brown coat. Two tentacles held her tightly around the waist._

"_Fire a shot, and the girl dies," the doctor warned._

Oh shit, _Taylor and Cypher thought. _He's taken a hostage.

"Octavia! He's got Octavia!" Daisy pointed.

"Who? Who's got Octavia?" Jordan wildly looked around. "One minute she's _right_ next to me and the next she's gone!"

Daisy ran up the sidewalk, pushing yuppies out of the way. She pointed. "_Doc Ock_, you bubblehead!"

"What? He couldn't have taken _me_? Life is so unfair!"

"_Report of Status of Project Octopus."_

"_We have a problem, Director."_

_The director's voice was tinged with impatience now. "What now? We've been running into walls since day one. How hard is it to dispose of a physicist and his clone?"_

_Cypher adjusted the laptop, microphone, and camera that allowed her to teleconference with the Director from her car. "Octavius has taken the clone hostage during the course of a bank robbery."_

"_Does he know who she is?"_

"_He seems to have picked her at random—unknowingly."_

"_What are you waiting for? You know the drill. You follow them and kill them both. Then their bodies are to be taken into the laboratory for study." He paused to light his cigar and digressed. "The standard issue human body has two arms and enough nerve endings to serve them. How is it that the artificial intelligence of the tentacles can so thoroughly meld with the nervous system, allowing the arms and the human minds of the owners can function as one?"_

"_All you do is sit at your desk giving orders. You've never tracked down a super villain."_

_The Director ignored her, still continuing on his lecture. _

"_Those marvelous arms unlock all manner of possibilities. Those actuators will be part of every American soldier's field equipment, the Pentagon will make sure of that."_

"_But the young clone…"_

"_The clone has outlived its usefulness. It is not a _person_, per se, in that a person is born from two genetic parents. It was grown in a lab from one person's cells. It is an experiment. Nothing more. We can easily make another one. The clone called Octavia turned out much too independent minded."_

"_And that's a bad thing?"_

_The Director groaned. "What is the point of any military boot camp, Cypher? You break a recruit down, build him back up from scratch, and teach him to unquestionably obey the orders of those above him. A soldier has no time for ethics in the middle of war. The enemy plays dirty and so do we. If a terrorist leader is hiding in a daycare center, our soldier can't refuse to blow it up for fear of killing the kids inside. It's called collateral damage. If terrorists capture one of our own, you can be sure that he's going to be beheaded on national TV. Us, we just pile our prisoners up naked and take pictures of it and the liberals bitch about it."_

"_Yes, sir."_

"_Did you know that our scientists are working on a brain implant that will enable us to control anyone?"_

"_No, sir."_

"_Actually, we tested the first versions of the implant in certain assassinations. But it only works on the naïve; a person with very strong willpower can defeat it. But once we clone genetically superior super-soldiers, attach the arms, and put the brain implant in, the current US military will be obsolete. No more drafts and no more recruiting. Regular soldiers need beer, women, and letters from home to keep them happy and going. The super-soldiers won't need any of that, and if they get killed, we can make some more! Isn't modern scientific technology grand?"_

"_How do I find the template?"_

"_What do you do when fighting an enemy? You go to your enemy's enemies."_

_A red and blue blur swooped past the black sedan._

Octavia looked into the face of the man she was cloned from.

At that moment, he ceased to be just the original, a genetic template, and became, in her eyes…

Her _father_.


	6. hostage

All my loyal minions have been wondering what Otto and his clone Octavia are going to do next! Oooh, I just _love_ keeping my readers in suspense!

Thanks to all my reviewers and to everybody else, read and review!

Chapter 6: Octavia Held Hostage

Doc Ock's eyes widened as he looked in the face of his young hostage. Somehow, she looked _exactly_ like him. Same eyes. Same nose. Same hair. Same nose, mouth, chin, ears. Cut to female proportions, but exactly the same as his.

Octavia scowled. "What are you looking at? Do I remind you of someone?"

"Yes. I think so. Perhaps myself as I should have been. I have made many mistakes in my life."

"Well I should hope so."

"I remember it all…the accident that turned me into who I am. I remember my wife, Rosalie—I met her on the college steps. We—wait. I just took you hostage five minutes ago, why am I telling you this? I am not in the habit of revealing my life story to my hostages."

Octavia scowled again. "Maybe we have a connection. Now that I've met the great Doctor Octopus, I think I'll just go now."

"Oh no you don't." A tentacle blocked the door. "I'll need a hostage in case the police come after me again."

"So pick up another girl. I know one girl who'll be glad to be your hostage."

"I find this hard to admit…but I think there is some kind of connection between us too. I must find out what it is. I can feel it—just as surely as I feel the actuators on my back and in my head."

She just stared. He did not know yet.

_Cypher was driving at top speed, but still could not keep up with the spider-powered hero leaping from the rooftops far above her. "Spider-Man!" she howled. _

_The blur faded to reveal a tall, slender but muscular man in a red and blue suit standing in front of her. Cypher had to brake to keep from running over him. "Oh, I thought you were one of those giggly fangirls. You don't look like a fangirl." _

"_Of course not! I am not a fangirl!" Cypher's teeth were gritted. _

"_Look, miss. I don't have time to get your cat out of a tree. Doc Ock's robbed a bank and he's heading out—"_

_Cypher flashed her ID card. "Agent Cindy Cypher, SDSI of CIA. I'm after him too."_

"_Why would the CIA be after—"_

"_Top secret defense project, Spider-Man. I'm not at liberty to say."_

"_Right."_

"_You have fought this man many times, have you not?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Defeated him?"_

"_Mostly. Not all the time."_

"_Help me find him. He's taken a hostage, who I also need."_

"_Who's the hostage?"_

"_Classified. Look, I have a lot of resources at my disposal. I can pay you $100,000 dollars to kill Octavius and bring the cl—hostage to me."_

"_Kill him!" Spidey shook his head. "You Feds are a real piece of work. If you want _that_ kind of hero, call the Punisher."_

"_Are you aware that the CIA building in New York has a half-inch file on you and your family?"_

"What_!"_

"_Including your true identity, Mr. Peter Parker."_

"_Now that's just low."_

"_And information on your wife, Mary Jane Watson-Parker, and her family. Your Aunt May, who raised you from childhood. Your newborn baby May, named after her."_

_Spidey was aghast._

"_Now if that file were to just—slip—to the media…"_

_The hero snarled behind his mask. "You wouldn't dare."_

"_How would your boss, Mr. J. Jonah Jameson, like to find out that the hero he slanders in his paper is actually one of his employees? We've got a lot of dirt on you, and I'm willing to use it to ensure your cooperation."_

_He never had a choice. A short time later…_

"_Report on Projects, Cypher."_

"_Can you believe I got Spider-Man riding in the car with me?"_

"_What!"_

"_You suggested I go to my enemy's enemies."_

_Spidey butted in. "Gee, couldn't I get there faster my way?"_

"_What am I going to do, ride piggyback while you web-sling?"_

"_Oh. Right."_

_Cypher turned to the computer image of the Director. Spidey was riding in the back. She pushed a button, making a soundproof partition go up, the better to have privacy. She leaned into the microphone. "The Spider will do the dirty work. As soon as Octavius is webbed up, I'll finish him and his degenerate clone."_

"_I hope you don't tell him anything classified."_

"_No, I just said I needed to capture Octavius and told him about his SHIELD file. He cooperated. He is eager to protect his wife, elderly aunt, and newborn daughter."  
_

_The Director signed off, and Cypher put down the partition. "Sorry there, Had to talk to my boss. Classified."_

"_What isn't with you guys?"_

"_In war, you have to know your enemy better than he knows himself."_

"_Uh huh. By getting to know him, you will also know his weaknesses."_

"_You're catching on. I figure you'd know more about him than anyone else."_

"_Not really. Some stuff about his career, and a little about his late wife, but that guy is a riddle inside an enigma inside an adamantium tentacle harness."_

"_Let's remember that file, Spider-Man."_

"_What do you want?"_

"_Well, I'll tell you two words. Then you tell me everything—but everything—you know about those two words. The words are: Doctor Octopus. Go."_

_Spider-Man told Cypher everything._

"So Doc…do you even eat or what? I'm starved."

"Of course I _eat_, girl. Sometimes a bit too much, which of course accounts for my slight excess of poundage. Grilled cheese?"

"Sure." Octavia was still sullen. He was her biological genetic template. She ought to trust him. Why didn't she?

The tentacles reached for a skillet, butter, bread, and cheese.

"Could you make it with pepperoni in it?"

A tentacle held up the package of deli meat while a blade popping from another tentacle sliced it open.

"Don't you even want to know my _name_?" Octavia snapped.

"Why? You are just a hostage. You are my means to keep the police and that accursed arachnid aberration from seriously injuring me, which would be most inconvenient."

Octavia's eyes narrowed. "I'm an actual _person_, even though some may disagree. My name is Octavia. Octavia Mary Jones. What's your _real_ name, anyway?"

"Why do you wish to know?"

"I just told you mine. If I'm going to be here for awhile, we may as well know each other's names."

The doctor sighed. Perhaps he should have picked a less feisty, cocky hostage, but there was that mysterious connection again. "Otto. Doctor Otto Gunther Octavius."

They ate their grilled cheese sandwiches in silence after that, each cautiously studying the other.

"So what are we going to do, Otto?"

"Octavia, have you ever been to a scientific conference? There is a most interesting exhibit there I would like to show you."


	7. plans

To all my loyal minions who might have given up hope:

To DragonStar16: Sure, I'll try, but I'm still grounded.

To Agent Silver: First question: I don't think he even knew. Second question: Of course.

To K9: Hope so! It should get better.

To Phoenix Master: Sure, but when has anyone ever kidnapped their own clone?

Read and review!

Chapter 7: Deep, Dark-Laid Plans

"_She was like me in lineaments—her eyes,_

_Her hair, her features all, to the very tone _

_Even of her voice, they said were like to mine;_

_But softened all; and tempered into beauty;_

_She had the same lone thoughts and wanderings,_

_The quest of hidden knowledge, and a mind_

_To comprehend the universe: nor these_

_Alone, but with them gentler powers than mine;_

_Pity, and smiles, and tears—which I had not_

_And tenderness, but that I had for her;_

_Humility—and that I never had._

_Her faults were mine—her virtues were her own."_

--Lord Byron, _Manfred_, Act II, scene 2, 105-116

Mr. Anthony Nicholas listened carefully as Jordan and Daisy hurriedly explained what had happened to their friend.

"And he grabbed her and took off—"

"—he was robbing a bank—"

"—and he needed a hostage—"

"—one minute she was there and then she wasn't—"

"Slow down!" Mr. Nicholas admonished his daughter and her friend. "What, exactly, happened to Octavia?"

"She was kidnapped, Daddy." Jordan's eyes were downcast. The shopping trip was her idea.

"Kidnapped." Nicholas let out a slow sigh. "CIA again? Like a couple years ago?"

"No, Daddy. Doctor Octopus."

Unlike most, Anthony Nicholas believed conspiracy theories. He deeply mistrusted the mainstream media, believing that they were only pawns of something greater. He had studied every secret society—the Masons, the Illuminati, the Priory of Zion. He wholeheartedly assumed shadowed figures pulled the strings of government and media, and that the shadowed figures were not above deliberate assassination and bribery. He was a veteran of Gulf War I, and was convinced that the government put a tracking chip in his butt. Most people, including his ex-wife Melissa Breedlove, considered him a paranoid nut. But hearing certain ex-presidents talking about the "New World Order" only confirmed his beliefs. _Someday I'll have the last laugh_, he thought.

Given his beliefs, it was no surprise he believed his beloved daughter when she told him her best friend was a clone of a super-villain. He had assumed legal guardianship of Octavia after her adoptive parents, Joseph and Jane Jones, were killed in a car accident (orchestrated by the government, Anthony suspected). Because of his involvement, Anthony believed the CIA was keeping a file on him and his whole family. Jordan had told him a CIA agent had shown her such a file.

"Isn't he the guy Octavia was cloned from?"

"Yeah."

"What the hell would _he_ want with her?"

"He was looking for a hostage during his bank robbery. I don't even think he knew."

"Obviously, we can't go to the police. Not with her origins. They'd never believe us," piped up Daisy.

"Of course." Anthony continued, "People like to deny that which they don't want to believe." He scratched his ass where he was convinced the computer chip lay just under the skin.

"We could go to Spider-Man!" Daisy helpfully offered. "His archenemy. He'll know how to deal with him!"

Jordan inwardly squirmed at the thought of her secret crush being beaten up and webbed up.

"Sure," said Anthony, "but it's not like he's got a hotline to call. Spider-man will probably know about the robbery and he's probably pursuing him now. The problem is that the CIA will go and demand to take Octavia again."

The phone rang.

The doctor and his hostage stopped at the convention center.

"What are we doing here?" Octavia asked.

"Like I said, a scientific conference is being held here. I am a man of science. There are a few things here of interest."

A burly security guard looked at the strange-looking man and his much younger companion. "Ticket?"

"What?"

The guard rolled his eyes. "You need a ticket to be admitted into the conference," he replied very slowly, as if talking to a two-year-old.

"Hmm." Octopus ordered Octavia to stand back. "I know I have them—somewhere back here." A tentacle shot out, hurling the guard across the hall. Octavia was unsure if he was knocked cold or dead.

Meanwhile, in his apartment in Queens, Peter Parker nursed his coffee. Mary Jane, his beloved wife, sat breast-feeding newborn May.

"I want you to know that no matter what happens to me, I will always love you—and our baby daughter."

Mary Jane's green eyes locked onto his blue. "Something's up, isn't it Peter. What super-villain is wreaking havoc now?"

The name dropped off Peter's lips with a heavy thud. "Doc Ock."

"Shit. You mean the mad scientist who sabotaged a train and then tied me to a pole in his secret pier while he handed you over to your best pal who was trying to kill you?"

"Yep."

"The tentacle-wielding villain who was whipping your ass so badly you finally had to _talk_ him out of blowing up the city instead of just beating the holy crap out of him?"

"That very one."

"Just what we need right now." Mary Jane's anger was simmering for quite a few minutes; now it bubbled to the surface. "You're a _father_ now! I need you! Little May needs you! For Chrissakes let the Avengers handle it! Or the X-Men or the Fantastic Four or whoever! Just put your family first for once!"

"What the hell do you think I do every day?" Peter shouted. "I _have_ to do this myself! A CIA agent came up to me and said they wanted him too and if I didn't go along they'd leak my secret identity to the media! If all my enemies find out who I really am, you, Aunt May, baby May—we're all as good as dead. And that's why I can't let anyone else handle it. Right now, it's just my neck on the line. If this gets out of hand…who knows how many people's necks are going to be there too?"

Mary Jane's voice was flat. "Fine. Sure. Whatever."

"Whatever," Peter responded.

The young inventor was demonstrating his device to a slender, black-suited man.

"It _looks_ like a simple copper bracelet, right? Well, you press the button and—"

"What the hell!" Carlyle jumped back. The inventor had suddenly disappeared! _God, if you're taking the money without giving me the device, I swear to God I'll—_

In a flash, the inventor reappeared. "My patented computer algorithm and hologram technology enable miniature cameras to record the surroundings of the wearer. Then with the press of the button the holographic force field will perfectly mimic the surroundings." The inventor sheepishly grinned. "Actually I was inspired to create this after I read my daughter's _Harry Potter_ books."

Carlyle grinned too. "An invisibility cloak for Muggles. What if this technology gets in the hands of the Voldemorts of this world? What then?"

"Look, I don't care who wants it, as long as they pay what I want."

Carlyle's lips curled into a sardonic sneer. "Ah. A man of my own heart."

"Then again, with all the money the SDSI is paying—"

"Shush! We don't officially exist, you know."

The doctor watched the conversation with some interest.


	8. enlightened

(wonders where everyone is) Sorry the last chapter was so dreary you didn't even think it fit to review (except for LadyKayoss, thank you). It should get better soon; chapter 9 will feature the first appearance of the Green Goblin in a Nature Versus Nurture story. What will Norman's debut hold in store for our heroes? Keep reading and keep reviewing!

From her secret bunker in her undisclosed location, The Trickster

Chapter 8: Enlightened One 

The inventor never saw what hit him. Carlyle was dispatched in a similar fashion. Octavia gasped as Carlyle hit the ground. "Do you have to hurt them?"

"Shush!" the villain scolded. "You're spoiling my fun." He picked the bracelet off the floor. Octavia's attention was focused elsewhere. Meanwhile, the other patrons at the conference were running like hell.

"What are you looking at, girl?" Otto sharply asked.

Octavia held up another device. Another scientist lay unconscious a few feet away. "It's some kind of sonic nullifier device. I heard him say it could crash any electronic security system or computer within twenty feet."

The doctor was impressed in spite of himself. "How'd you get rid of _him_?" he asked, indicating the scientist.

Octavia smiled, but it was devoid of mirth. "I hit him."

"_This computer has a probability predicting program that indicates where Octavius will strike next. By use of a sophisticated algorithm, it analyzes information from past actions and gives me a percentage of probability of the most likely events."_

"_Ah," Spidey assented. "So what does Hal say?"_

"_Hal?" Cypher was puzzled. _

"_Haven't you ever seen _2001: A Space Odyssey_?"_

"_My job doesn't afford me time to watch movies."_

"_There's an artificially intelligent computer named Hal on the spaceship. Hal took on a life of his own, turned homicidal and killed the whole crew."_

_Cypher groaned. "What does this have to do with Octavius?"_

"_Everything, Agent." Spidey sighed. "Just about everything."_

Anthony Nicholas sat down rather gingerly in his car (the better not to irritate the computer chip in his ass).

"God, you could do with a new car." Daisy crinkled her nose.

Anthony tapped the steering wheel. "1979 Pacer. Classic. I lost my job two years ago and hadn't found one since. I swear to God They're blacklisting me."

Jordan was well used to her father's conspiracy theories. Daisy was not. "Who are They?" she asked.

"The Illuminati, of course. They engineer wars, pitting one class of people against the other, financing both sides, until someday, everyone will be too weakened to resist when They step out of the shadows to take over the world."

"Illuminati? Doesn't that mean 'The Enlightened Ones'?"

"Who is Satan but the fallen Lucifer, the Angel of Light?" Anthony replied. "What if your little friend Octavia was part of this Illuminati plot? What if they were designing an army of super-soldiers as part of their personal military force of world domination? And if they put brain implants in their heads to keep them under control—"

Daisy leaned over and whispered to her best friend. "Your dad's nuts. No wonder your mom and dad are divorced."

"Daddy, I already explained it," said Jordan. "Octavia's not a super-soldier. She was just part of a really perverted psychology experiment."

"Besides, if they were building super-soldiers, why would they clone Doc Ock? He's really smart, but they could have cloned, say, the Green Goblin, who has super-strength and heals really quickly?" added Daisy.

"Or why wouldn't they just build people from scratch?" Jordan rejoined.

"That new Dean Koontz novel is really getting to you, isn't it?"

Jordan held up her copy of _Frankenstein: Prodigal Son_. "Sure, but Koontz missed one thing: Victor Helios is working for the government." In an undertone to Daisy, she added, "I haven't heard Daddy rant this much since he said the Catholics were part of a conspiracy to hide Christ's true origins. He said Jesus had a wife and kids. Can you believe _that_?"

"Hell no. Your dad's nuttier than a fruitcake, Jordan. A real live nut."

"Maybe he's on to something," replied Jordan. "About the super-soldiers, I mean. Not about Jesus having a wife and kid."

"The nut doesn't fall far from the tree," Daisy sighed.

"_So, what is he going to do next?"_

_Cypher looked at the computer screen. "He's going to rob another bank. 80 percent probability is First Central—"_

"_Your computer's full of bullshit, Cypher."_

"_What?"_

_Spidey rolled his eyes under his mask and clarified. "For Chrissakes, who do you think he is, Jesse James with tentacles? Now that he's got the money, he's going to hit some kind of scientific exhibit, steal some equipment."_

_Cypher impatiently tapped the screen. "This computer is tested to be 95 percent accurate, Spider-Man."_

"_Trust me, with Doc Ock, things _always_ fall into the other 5 percent. He's going to the nearest place they have scientific inventions. Trust me. He fancies himself a man of science, but he's a scientist like Victor Frankenstein's a scientist."_

_Cypher decided to put her trust in the web-crawler. She tapped a few buttons. "Next stop, the International Conference of Engineers and Scientists at the Convention Center."_

"Come to think of it, why would anyone want to clone and army of super-soldiers anyhow? The United States already has an army," asked Daisy.

"Americans are always loath to go to war and even more loath to have their boys die 'over there'. That's what we saw during Gulf War II. If this super-army were created, there would no longer be objections to a third Gulf War. After all, they're just clones, if they get blown up, we can make some more. It wouldn't be our fathers and brothers and sons getting killed."

"Daddy, will you quit scratching your butt? You're embarrassing me."

"Sorry Jordan, it's this damn computer chip. Honestly, I thought they were giving me an anthrax immunization."

"They probably were," said Daisy.

_The agent and the hero stood at the entrance to the trashed remnant of the convention center. Three scientists and two security guards were dead; all the other people there had probably ran like h-e-double hockey sticks._

"_You were right, Spider-Man," Cypher said. "He was here."_

"_And now he's gone."_


	9. goblin

Off to attend to my loyal minions:

To K9: You could say Mr. Nicholas is NVN's comic relief; but he is also the only one who actually has an inkling of what the government's _really_ up to.

To Agent Silver: I thought you also had my name on your author alert list and NVN on your C2 manager's alert list. Oh well. No, I'm not going to watch "Goblet of Fire" right now; my podunk town has no movie theater. The good news is that my parents have finally dragged themselves out of the Stone Age and bought a DVD player. Now if only Spider-Man 2 wasn't _sold freaking out_ at the wal-mart, I'd truly be happy. And besides, if Jesus really did marry Mary Magdalene and had a child, what would be so wrong with that? Most of religion's greatest prophets had families. True love is, after all, God's greatest gift.

To LadyKayoss: Actually, it was Oklahoma City bomber Tim McVeigh who first said the government put a computer chip in his butt. I'm not the first conspiratist who came up with that.

Now comes the debut of Green Goblin in an NVN story! Read and review, my friends, and good-bye for now!

From her secret lair, The Trickster

Chapter 9: Give the Goblin His Due

"_Where will he go now?" Agent Cypher, of the Subdivision of Scientific Intelligence of the Central Intelligence Agency, asked._

_Just outside the ruined Convention Center shrieks and sirens filled the air. Spider-Man, the superhero in reluctant partnership with the secret agent, scratched his head, listening to an all-too-familiar _crunch-crunch-crunch_ sound of metal on cement. "The answer is closer than you think."_

The phone rang at the Parker house.

"Parker residence. Mary Jane speaking." The redheaded beauty listened to the voice on the other end.

"Just the woman I want to speak to." The hideous cackle chilled her to the bone. The Green Goblin.

She nearly dropped the phone. But what Osborn had to say would prove to be very important.

Across the city, a strange brown-haired girl surveyed the chaos her model had wreaked of the convention center.

"Right now, we're going to run. We have too many things to do, and no time to waste. There are police all over. The only way out—is straight up."

The super-villain clasped Octavia, the brown-haired girl, with one of his famous tentacles. She seemed surprisingly heavy to the doctor, but he did not know she had a set of her own.

"I cannot climb as well with only three arms, but you are much too valuable to lose. Come on."

"Norman, what do you want?"

"Some cretin stole a copy of a blueprint out of Oscorp headquarters, along with journals of nuclear physics and biochemistry research. I'd like them back."

"Sure. I'll grab them from my invisible hole in the basement."

"Don't be sarcastic, girl. The blueprints were for Octavius' remote manipulator arms and the journals were for his nuclear fusion experiments and _my_ super-soldier project. I happen to know the fat freak who calls himself 'Doctor Octopus' stole them. Your miserable wretch of a husband is pursuing Octavius, who has taken a hostage tied into some very strange business. The patents for all of that stuff are _mine_. Octavius stole them, and I want them back."

"What do you want me to do?"

"He goes home every night, right? Talks to you—confides in you about his superhero exploits?"

"Sometimes, but mostly he wants to protect me."

"You have my number. It showed up on your caller id. Spy on him for me, tell me everything he tells you—about Octavius, his strange hostage, the CIA agent with him…"

"And why should I help scum like you?"

"Well, I could do something simple. I could drop you straight off a bridge like I did to the blonde ex-girlfriend. She was a devil in bed. Too bad she had to die."

"You'll rot in hell for what you did to Gwen." Mary Jane's teeth were gritted.

"Or I could do something of medium effort, like go after Peter's aunt in Queens. She's babysitting your older child, your boy Ben, right? Two birds with one pumpkin bomb.

"Or I could do something which could totally rip your perfect little marriage apart."

"Come again?" Mary Jane feigned innocence. She knew, and so did Norman.

"Don't take me for a fool, you clever little minx. You cheated on Peter. You had an affair with my son. You birthed his child—and abandoned her."

The child would be only a few months older than May now. All Mary Jane had seen was a blur of auburn hair and ice blue eyes before it was snatched from her.

"A girl, Mary Jane. A daughter, named Noreen Harriet Osborn."

"How do you know what her name is? I gave that baby up for adoption. She'll never know the legacy of the Green Goblin. _Never_."

"Right. Guess who's a proud papa now?" A baby squalled in the background. "Don't worry, angel girl, I have your bottle right here," Norman cooed to the baby. "Noreen, say hi to Momma." Another round of hideous cackles, and mercifully, he hung up.

Octavia had never seen Pier 56—the main hideout of her biological template—before. It did not look as she expected. Octavia intellectually understood Sam Raimi's need for the dramatic effect of a mad scientist's dank, dark secret lab (with accompanying spooky Danny Elfman symphony—a must for any superhero movie), the derelict front was all a sham. The laboratory _inside_ was magnificent, built from scratch from stolen money and scientific equipment.

If two monsters chanced to meet, would they recognize each other?

Octavia knew she was not fully human, just a monster that took the form. Anything that goes against the laws of nature and of nature's God was unnatural and consequently a monster. She was a handsome girl in her own way, but there was no escaping that fact. She was not born of man and woman, but grown from the cells of one man, her captor. She was not birthed from a woman, but plucked from a tank. She began life, not from the union of sperm and egg, but cultured in a Petri dish.

Octavia knew she didn't have a life of her own, not like her friends Jordan and Daisy did, not like the rest of the six billion people on earth did, but she feared death. Being created by man and not by God, she had no eternal soul, and so was irretrievably doomed and damned.

For on the sixth day God created man (with two arms) and created woman from his rib, and bade them be as one, and become fruitful and multiply. And on Friday, August 8th, 14 years ago, man mocked God and created woman of another man's blood cells.

_For the life of the flesh is in the blood._

Her magenta-trimmed tentacles stared at her, not knowing what to do or say. Their artificial intelligence program was not meant to handle questions of a metaphysical nature. She was uniquely alone.

"Octavia?" Her father called. "I made dinner. Okay, it's TV dinners heated over a Bunsen burner, but…Octavia? Are you all right? Octavia?"

He opened the door, and saw. He sucked in a breath. "Well, this changes things a bit."


	10. ecce homo

Chapter 10: Ecce Homo

"My God, what a day," muttered Peter. Mary Jane retrieved a can of beer.

Peter was flopped on the couch and slurping a beer rapidly. He almost wished his finely-tuned metabolism (just one of the products of a radioactive spider bite) didn't process alcohol so quickly. He wanted to get buzzed, which was proving rather difficult.

"Tell me all about it, Peter," Mary Jane said, pouring another beer. Alcohol loosens lips and inhibitions.

"He was carrying the hostage—in the fourth tentacle?" Peter slurped some more beer. Mary Jane poured some more.

"He was carrying his hostage. A brown-haired girl. Shielding her."

"Why? Did he actually seem to care for her?"

"He's always taken in scientifically-gifted kids occasionally, mentored them. He tried to do that for me once. But I thought that ended when—" Peter chugged down some more. "I guess there is a downside to super-powered metabolism."

"Maybe the line where Octavius leaves off and Octopus begins is finer than we think," MJ offered helpfully.

"He was careful not to let her get hurt. She looked _exactly_ like him, you know. Same hair, same facial features. They were blunted, feminized, but exactly the same."

"Maybe she was his daughter."

"He said quite clearly that he and Rosie never had kids. Pass me another beer."

MJ poured some more, some for herself as well as her husband. She took a sip, but thought better of it. It was not good for a spy to be drunker than the target—not even James Bond.

"Maybe he picked up a girl in a bar and she got pregnant."

"It was probably you. You had that kid around a year ago, between little Ben and little May. Some girlfriends I have—they screw my archenemies behind my back." Mary Jane's face fell. "Aw, I'm sorry. _You_ would never do that to me."

Mary Jane had long known the reason for Gwen's death. She had feared the same thing would happen to her. She'd borne Harry Osborn's daughter. Unlike Gwen, she was not so naïve as to believe her husband would willingly raise a descendant of his arch nemesis. Determined for the child not to learn her heritage, she'd signed away her parental rights and given the baby up for adoption. Somehow, Norman had gotten to his dead son's child and raised her as his own—the son he'd never had.

She could beat him to the punch, tell him about it all first, without Norman distorting the whole sordid story—but he'd promised silence as long as she helped him. Why ruin a perfect marriage?

Meanwhile, on Pier 56…

"Wait, let me explain! I know it sounds stupid, but…" Octavia desperately called.

"I am not aware of ever having been _cloned_."

"There's a DNA analyst computer in here. Let me prove it to you."

And slowly, Octavia retrieved two syringes and took a sample of her own blood with one. The doctor winced as he rolled up his sleeve and drew blood from himself, too.

_For the life of the flesh is in the blood._

"Mary Jane, who are you calling?"

"My lawyer," she fibbed. _I'm gonna need a divorce lawyer if Norman opens his mouth._

"Well?" the voice on the other end said. "About that hostage?"

"Peter said the hostage closely resembled Octavius…and he was riding in a car with some CIA agent who was also after him."

"So it worked then. They were really doing it."

"Doing _what_?"

"If I wanted you to know, I'd _tell_ you." With another round of mad cackles, he hung up.

"Amazing." Octavius studied the computer's genetic analysis. "You were right. You share all of my genes. An almost exact genetic duplicate."

_Then why am I a girl?_ She wondered.

He answered the very question she was thinking of. "Yes, you do have a Y chromosome. All mammals, including humans, are female by default unless masculinized. It's the opposite for birds and for reptiles, gender depends of the temperature an egg is laid. There is only one gene on the Y chromosome that masculinizes a male fetus—called the SRY. In _your_ case, the SRY seems to be intentionally mutated, giving you a female body with male behavioral characteristics. But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would they want to _clone_ me?"

Octavia shuddered to think of the answer: that she was more and yet less than he was, engineered to be a super-soldier in America's secret army.

_She was uniquely alone._

"You heard me." Carlyle's voice was clipped and impatient. He'd answered _this_ question several times. "You were to be paid _after_ completion of the experiment. We've lost our clone. You'll get you money as soon as we get the clone alive and give her the formula."

Norman Osborn, prominent businessman-cum-super villain, was especially cross today. "I knew you were taking genetic samples form superhumans, but you had to clone _Octavius_, for God's sake?"

"We couldn't tell the effects of superhuman genetic mutations on a clone, Osborn," Carlyle explained. "The SDSI finally settled on Octavius because he had certain desirable traits, but no genetically based powers."

"You're not going to screw me out of money, Carlyle."

"Oh, don't worry. It's not like you _need_ it, anyway. Once we get the clone, you'll get what's coming to you."

_Oh, don't worry, Agent Carlyle. I will._

Peter and Mary Jane Parker had arrived at their destination, a fashionably exclusive, out of the way Chinese restaurant called the Kwan Yin, after the Buddhist goddess of mercy. Although Peter was distracted by his "mission" with Agent Cypher, he was feeling adventurous. He hailed a waiter to his private booth.

"Sir?"

Peter smiled. "Do you have anything…you know, too exotic for the menu tonight? I have plenty of money." He had taken money from Cypher for his role in Project Apollo, but although he was a bit ashamed of it, he desperately needed it.

"Why yes," the waiter responded upon seeing the thick bundle of bills Peter was flashing. "It is a Korean delicacy, prized by martial arts students who believe it gives tremendous strength, ferocity, and stamina. It also has a distinctive texture, a delicate taste and a unique feel in the mouth. But it is tricky to eat and I fear it may be much too—exotic—for your sensibilities."

Peter frowned. _Sensibilities be damned. I need all the strength and stamina I can get, because I can tell_ this _battle with Doc Ock is going to be a real doozie and I might as well enjoy myself before the end._

"I'll take it. I'm feeling very adventurous tonight."

The waiter smiled and brought back a ornately decorated wineglass and a bottle of Napa Valley wine perfectly suited for the occasion.

Two lovely waitresses, their black hair in buns and dressed in red kimonos adorned with gold dragons, then appeared with an ornately engraved, red lacquered tray on which stood a white porcelain bowl of steaming saffron rice and a smaller pot with hot peanut oil, twice clarified and infused with pepper and mustard oils.

The aroma was divine. Mary Jane, who could appreciate good food herself, sniffed appreciatively.

A third waitress, her kimono the color of rare orchids, put a plain white plate before Peter, and beside the plate she set down ivory chopsticks decorated with a simple band of gold.

Finally, the fourth waitress, wearing a kimono as rosy pink as cherry blossoms, appeared with the entrée, setting it to the left of the plate.

Peter and Mary Jane both leaned forward in anticipation of this ambrosia, this food of the gods, which must be waiting even now in the covered silver serving dish.

The pink-gowned waitress lifted the lid. The delicacy was revealed.

Peter's face blanched, then arranged itself in an odd mixture of disgust and revulsion.

Squirming in a shallow pool of water in the platter, sat two _live_, wriggling, bulbous-headed, beady-eyed, eight-tentacled octopi.

Allowing the sheer ironic humor of the moment to pierce the darkness of recent events, Peter and Mary Jane burst into laughter, to the great puzzlement of the entire restaurant staff.

"I guess some of our tax dollars were well-spent, after all." The doctor was now studying Octavia's tentacles, comparing them with his own. "Much stronger, an adamantium-titanium alloy, much better-looking and shinier than mine. The round rings lining them was a nice touch—they almost look like suckers. Are you ready to go out?"

"Yes, Father," Octavia said. The mad scientist did not notice how pale and thin she looked.

Spider-Man crawled in to the black sedan waiting for him in the parking lot. "Hello, Agent Cypher."

"Are you ready to go?"


	11. sun

I finally update, and my Loyal Minions are nowhere in sight...(sigh)

Chapter 11: Blinding Sun

"Any ideas, Spider-Man?" asked Cypher. She reloaded her two handguns. This is what it's like to be Agent Cindy Cypher, right now:

_This latest mission transcends business. Even though your husband and infant son perished in the blazing end of the World Trade Center, it even transcends duty to country. _

_You are on a mission of vengeance: hunting down the murderer of your neurosurgeon mother and his hostage, the murderer's clone, a soulless monster all but destined to repeat his sordid history._

_And you will do anything for that revenge. Anything._

"I wish I had some." Spider-Man was deep in thought.

"Think like your enemy, Spider-Man. Think what you would do if you were that eight-armed lunatic. The FBI employs profilers for that exact reason: you must _understand_ evil in order to defeat it."

Spider-Man thought. What, exactly, had Doc Ock stolen in the past two weeks?

Sonic amplifiers. Metal cylinders. Metal girders. Computer chips. Control panels. Equipment too arcane to describe here.

It was a giant mental jigsaw puzzle. Grasping at his intuition, Spidey mentally put the pieces together to form the picture of Doctor Octopus' Plan for World Domination.

"A radiation ray! That's what he's building. At the core is a variant of the miniature sun he first tried to create years ago!" _Ah, I've got it._

Cypher's eyes widened. Operation Apollo was the assassination of Otto Octavius. Apollo, the Greek god of the sun.

How fitting for a scientist who would control the sun.

"Explain."

"He's still trying to build that nuclear fireball. It's the symbol of his ultimate failure, and Ock's ego cannot abide failure. But he's more ambitious this time. He wants to _focus_ that energy into a deadly ray with which he can hold a whole city or state for ransom."

Cypher's eyes widened in horror. "But _why_?"

"For money, for power, for my defeat? I don't even know. But he still doesn't have everything he needs."

"What's missing?"

"Tritium. An extremely rare form of hydrogen especially suited for nuclear fusion. It was the thing that made the sun go."

"Where did he get it last time?"

"The man he got it from, Harry Osborn—he is no longer alive. But I know where his company is."

Spidey extended his hand, triggering his web-shooting organs. "It'll be faster this way for me. We'll separate and then meet at Oscorp Industries."

This is what it's like to be Spider-Man, right now:

_Swinging, gliding through the air on thin strands of spider web silk stronger than steel—a rush, a thrill, but a hollow, bitter one._

_You would much rather be home, cuddling your wife. You would rather be playing catch with your five-year-old son, holding your infant daughter. But you cannot._

_You remember when fate tossed_ _power your way. You were too selfish to use them to stop a robber. That very robber killed the uncle who had raised you from childhood. Your son bears his name, so you would never forget him, never forget his words._

"_With great power must always come great responsibility."_

_Children throughout New York City know your name, follow your super-powered exploits like kids everywhere else do Shaquille O'Neal or Tiger Woods or Serena Williams. They look out the window as you swing and shout, "Look, it's Spider-Man!" as if your very name could create a miracle. They know that when their Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man arrives on the scene, those dirty crooks and super-criminals are gonna wish they'd stayed in bed today._

_They can relate to you. You are unlike any who have come before._

_You are not noble-born like the Sub-Mariner._

_You are not respected like the Fantastic Four; in fact, you are publicly branded a menace._

_You are bright, but not as intellectually gifted as Professor Xavier. _

_You are not wealthy, like the Iron Man: in fact, it's all you can do just to get your rent in on time. _

_And you are certainly nowhere near as powerful as the Hulk._

_But you are loved. And you wonder why._

_Because they don't know _you_. They are loving an image._

_Because, in the end, superheroes are created not by radioactive spiders, but by the media. In the end, Spider-Man is just a suit. And when you strip that suit off, you are just an ordinary man who just happens to have extraordinary power._

_You are Peter Parker._

_And right now, that is all you want to be._

Spider-Man raced towards the Oscorp lab, towards the most heavily guarded storage facility, deftly leaping over triggered laser beams.

The place was empty, but his spidey senses still tingled. As he hesitated to figure out what danger a totally empty room could possibly pose, a whir of metal whipped toward him.

Spidey leapt.

Half a second too slow.

Knocked high into the air, Spidey still managed to land on his hands and somersault upright. With the ringing shout, "The doctor is in, and this won't hurt a bit!" the mad scientist swam into view.

His hostage rode piggyback. He slipped a vial of precious tritium, cold gray liquid, out of his pocket, and then slipped it in again.

He smiled. "You're too late, Spider-Man. You figured out what I was planning, but your feeble mind, I daresay, is simply no match for my phenomenal genius. I'll _always_ be eight steps ahead of you."

_The key to defeating evil is understanding it._

The secret to defeating _this_ particular supervillain, Spidey knew, was to dodge the mechanically strong tentacles until he could get close enough to knock him in the jaw as hard as he could. Aside from those arms, the good doctor had only human strength.

The tentacles tossed Spidey toward a wall; the hero quickly righted himself, clung to the wall, crouched, and sprang at Octopus headfirst. But Ock faded into empty air.

"What in the hell?" Spidey muttered. _He's found a way to make himself invisible_, he glumly thought.

When his finely tuned instinctual perception that was his spidey-sense warned him of the unseen tentacle whipping behind him, he didn't think twice. He leapt again.

"Blast!" The villain swam into view again. "Hold _still_, you cretin, and make my job easier!" He disappeared just as quickly.

There was something _funny_ about his spidey-sense, though. It was ringing with the signal he usually got from Octavius. But it was coming from…

His _hostage_!

How could this teenage girl carry the same threat as this mad scientist maniac—

--standing right in front of him, unseen, according to his intuition?

His spidey-sense told him what to do. Spidey didn't know _why_ it might work, but he knew _what_ to do. He didn't think twice.

With his left hand, Spidey triggered his webbing. With the right, he made a flying punch. His spidey-sense was now a beacon blaring: _The super-villain's jaw is right here._

Something slipped off the doctor's right wrist, fading into view: a strange copper bracelet. At the same time, the hero's right fist connected squarely with the villain's jaw, sending him flying as he shouted:

"Strike, Octavia, strike!"


	12. fusion

Chapter 12: Nuclear Fusion

"_A devil, a born devil, on whose nature nurture can never stick." _–Shakespeare, _The Tempest_

This is Octavia Jones, right now:

_For years, your nights have been haunted by strange nightmares: you dream of sun and water, of trains and strange-looking men in red and blue tights. Sometimes, you have even dreamed that you are a man._

_Now, you know what it all means._

_And slowly, as you face the spandex-clad hero from your dreams, the puzzle pieces of your life fly together and fuse like hydrogen atoms, producing—_

_Fusion._

The doctor went flying under the force of Spider-Man's punch, shouting "Strike, Octavia, strike!" before being concussed on the wall.

_Octavia. Now that's an unusual name—_

And that was about as far as Spidey's train of thought went, because the girl had flung off a brown leather trench coat to reveal four silvery metal tentacles.

_Oh, this is bad,_ he thought. _This is bad._

The hero's spidey-sense barely had time to warn him before he got clipped in the jaw. _Just frickin great. She's got a new and improved version._

Finally, Octavia knew what Carlyle meant when he said, "Use your faults." Her faults were, namely: her explosive temper, her aggressiveness, and her arrogance.

Spidey found to his dismay that she was blindingly fast and impossibly strong; she _was_ a super-soldier, after all. She danced in the fight like a mote of dust in a sunbeam, leaving Spidey to punch at empty air.

_I float like a butterfly and sting like a bee_, a famous boxer once said. _Your fists can't hit what your eyes don't see!_

It was fairly business as usual at Shylock High School, but Jordan Nicholas and Daisy Gatsby were too worried about their friend to concentrate in class. They were in gym now, and Jordan, who hated volleyball anyway, shivered with dread both at getting picked last for the game and the possibility that…

"Oh, look, it's two of the Three Stooges," Heather Cannes, the snarky new Queen Bee, snickered.

"Better than the Stepford Cheerleaders, I can tell ya that," Jordan retorted.

"Your wisecracks are as lame as your clothes, Jordan. The velvet stretch pants went out in the seventies. When are you going to grow up?"

"You mean grow up like you and your pets? You mean wear skintight clothes, shake your t and a around, act like you're God's gift to guys, show off to anyone and no one, and pick on girls who are different than you?"

"Smart. _Real_ smart, Nicholas. You're too smart for your own good. Around here, you have to put out to get in and kiss ass to stay in."

"Yes, I'm sure you _put out_, Cannes. I'm sure the varsity football team thinks you're a very generous individual."

"Quit with your cracks, Jordan. I'm giving you this advice for your own good. Do you know which one of us is going to get the college recommendation letters? You know, the ones that say, "This young lady is a fine student involved in five extracurricular activities?"

"Yeah, I do. And I also know who's going to desperately need them when the SAT scores come in."

"Good Lord, Jordan. For three girls who are supposed to be the smartest in the school, you, Daisy, and Octavia don't know diddly squat. Is there one guy in the entire school who will give you the slightest bit of attention?"

"Do you and your cronies ever date any guys who have an IQ bigger than his football jersey number?"

"Jordan, I'm not here to discuss high school social mores with you. I've heard you spouting off how CIA agents kidnapped your pal Octavia Jones."

"My dad thinks that too."

"Your dad thinks the FBI killed Marilyn Monroe because she was pregnant with John Kennedy's baby and the US Army put a microchip in his ass before he went to fight in Gulf War I."

"My dad's open minded."

"Yes, he's so open-minded you can look in his eyes and see right to the back of his skull. I hate to break the truth about your pal Squid Vicious _this_ way."

Heather pulled a copy of _The Daily Bugle_ from her pocket. The headline read: "Mad Scientist's Rampage, Spider-Man Possibly Involved." Heather began to read. "'The mad scientist known worldwide as 'Doctor Octopus' is allegedly behind the robberies of scientific equipment at the International Science and Engineering Convention and the prominent corporation Oscorp Industries. It is estimated that several million dollars worth of equipment was stolen, including the rare and unstable hydrogen isotope tritium,' _blah, blah, blah_—oh, here's the good part! 'Octavius is believed to be accompanied by his hostage-turned-accomplice, believed to be a teenage girl with brown hair and brown eyes. They are both considered to be well-armed and dangerous', _blah, blah, blah_—do you guys know what 'Stockholm Syndrome' is 'cause _I_ sure as hell don't—"

Daisy looked at the photograph. "Good God! It can't be! Octavia is the accomplice?—"

Heather was obviously enjoying herself. "Like father, like daughter, after all. Now, let's get to the volleyball game. Maybe you guys will be picked—oh, _second_ to last, if you're lucky." She threw one last look over her shoulder. "You poor, pitiful turds."

"_You're where they come from, Heather_!" Jordan retorted.

Finally, Spidey managed to get a kick to the chest in. Octavia's two lower tentacles sank pincers in the ground, preventing her from falling. Unfortunately, all Spidey was doing here was pissing her off. The girl's tentacles were whipping around furiously and unpredictably; as soon as Spidey dodged one, another two arms whacked him again. He quickly realized the girl was playing his spidey-sense like a cheap fiddle.

It was though something large, monstrous, and slimy had hatched in Octavia's stomach, clawing at her insides. Hot blood was flowing into her mind, immersing it with a savage desire to snap Spidey's head right off his shoulders. She hated this man, she wanted to kill him, and she didn't know why; she didn't even know him, all he did was beat the shit out of a father who might have been the Jango Fett to her clonetrooper, but really wasn't a father at all.

"I'll do…what I must…" Spidey said, more to himself, his wife, and his children than Octavia. He struggled to get up, battered and bruised.

"You will try, you freak!" Octavia snarled. In a reaction Spidey's Aunt May could probably describe as _quicker than spit_, she sprang at him, pincers seizing him by wrists and ankles and pinning him to the wall.

Spidey coughed. "_I'm_ a freak? I guess it takes one to know one! You've got _your_ certified freak license already!"

"What do you do when you're not a superhero? Perform at the comedy club? Ah, _yes_—coming for one night only, Spider-Man, the last comic swinging." Octavia's face twisted in cold fury; the pincers snapped shut, and Spidey cried out in pain as the bones in his wrists shattered. She suddenly released him, pinning him down to the floor with one tentacle as a long blade popped out of another arm and—!

_Oh, God. I need a miracle. Don't let me go now…_

Then he heard the door being kicked in. Agent Cypher stood at the doorway, pointing a rifle straight at Octavia. "Let _go_ of him, girl."

With a yellow-trimmed tentacle, Otto (who had recovered from his fall) grabbed the rifle out of Cypher's hand, bent it with a pincer into something resembling a pretzel, and threw it aside. "Take your hero home, woman," he said contemptuously. "He won't be causing us much trouble in the near future."

"Next time, Spider, we'll go in together." Cypher frowned. "I'm gonna have to fill out papers in _quintuplicate_ to get a new rifle—"

"There may not _be_ a next time! I would have been killed if you hadn't shown up right then!"

"You need to go to the hospital." Cypher admonished. "Your ribs are broken in several places and you're _bleeding all over_!"

"I _can't_! If I go as Spider-Man, they'll want to know what we've been doing in this lab, and if I go as Peter Parker, I'm going to have a hell of a time explaining why _this_ is coming out of my wrist!" Spidey pulled at a long, red gob of what looked like bloody spider-web.

"That's _disgusting_! For Chrissakes don't get it on my seats! I thought you'd invented a mechanical device to squirt cartridges of artificial polymer. I never expected—"

"Good Lord, I'm Spider-Man, not Thomas Edison!" He looked at his mangled wrists and broken ankles. "I'm out of commission. Can't even climb walls properly."

"Man, the good doctor really busted you up."

"It wasn't him, it was the _girl_! He must have put tentacles on her! She's stronger, faster, smarter, and she looks just like him!"

Cypher feigned surprise.

"I mean it," Spidey continued. "Sometimes I wish super-villains didn't have kids."

"Don't think we haven't tried," groaned Cypher. "SHIELD managed to capture five notorious super-criminals—your octopedal pal back there being one of them—and Chief Agent Nick Fury planned to enforce existing eugenics laws to sterilize them. He said these dangerous men should not be permitted to perpetuate their powers and madness into the next generation."

"_Eugenics_!" Spidey exclaimed in horror. Sure he wished he didn't have to deal with another Harry Osborn, but to _actually_--! "Didn't _Hitler_ come up with that?"

"Look, Spider-Man. Neurologists and geneticists no longer believe that the mind is a blank slate, a _tabula rasa_, etched on by upbringing and experience. Everything from temperament, emotion, aggression, tendencies to violence and madness, even including moral choices are hardwired into the brain. You're a photographer, right? Let me use this analogy. Your brain is born an exposed negative waiting to be dipped in the developing fluid. You can develop the negative well or you can do it poorly, but either way you aren't going to get much that isn't already imprinted in the film. Your genes are destiny—if your dad's a super-villain, you're going to grow up to be one too, since superpowers are also inherited. It's just written there, in your genes. Agent Fury just wanted to save the future superheroes the trouble."

"And what happened?" asked Spidey.

Cypher laughed hollowly. "The five got wind of the plan, escaped, and nearly trashed the White House until the Avengers came in! So much for _that_!"


	13. entropy

Chapter 13: The Law of Entropy

"_This is the excellent foppery of the world, that when we are sick in fortune, often the surfeit of our behavior, we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if we were villains by necessity, fools by heavenly compulsion." –_Shakespeare_, King Lear_

"I'm sick of your stalling." Norman Osborn was pacing his private office; his voice was deeper, darker, cold and clipped, more Goblin than Osborn. "How far along _are_ you in catching the clone?"

"Cypher places the clone with her genetic template. Look, Mr. Osborn, shit happens. Some things even the CIA cannot control."

"But my _money_—"

"I'm not interested in money. My only interest is national security."

"You _should_ be, Agent Carlyle. It's _my_ money that developed the Oz Formula! It's _my_ money that funded the development of the remote manipulator arms! It's _my_ money, in the form of income taxes, that go to _your_ employer! It's _my_ money that funded 'Project Octopus' in the _first_ place—"

Carlyle cocked his revolver and pointed it at Osborn's chest. "Can all your money protect you from _this_?"

It was all Osborn could do to suppress a snicker. Yes it could; if his superhuman healing powers could restore his bodyas good as new after Parker impaled him on his own glider, he saw no reason why he couldn't recover from a mere bullet wound. But, unlike the supervillain rival who wore his powers on his back, _he_ didn't need a long coat to conceal his abilities.

But then Carlyle saw the auburn-haired, strangely silent baby girl sitting solemnly in a high chair, right next to Norman's desk. Osborn had apparently been feeding the baby when he walked in; the half-full bottle was still on the desk. Carlyle holstered his revolver. "Then again, I'm not going to shoot you in front of your baby daughter. It might make her grow up to be a murderous, vengeful super-villain, and God knows we have enough of _those_ to go around."

"There is no God," Osborn said. "Humanity is the highest there is. And if there _were_ a God, He would hate that clone of yours because of what she is, an affront to all that _He_ is. He would snuff her out and throw her in Hell."

As the saying went, if you wanted something done right, it was best to do it yourself.

"Ingrid," Osborn sharply addressed his nanny, "I shall be out. You will look after Noreen while I am gone."

Octavia sat on the bed, staring at her hands in anguish. Her thoughts swirled rapidly inside her mind.

_I almost killed him. One swipe with the tentacle and I'd have taken his head right off his shoulders. Or I could have popped the blade out and run him through._

_I held myself back. I only broke his wrists. But I could have killed him. I would have. And I would have liked it._

_But he hates my father._

_Yes. Not you. Spider-Man has no issue with you._

_But aren't people supposed to defend their family?_

_But he's not family. He's not your father. I don't know why you stopped yourself._

_Because killing people is wrong._

_You are the creation of man, not God. God's laws may not apply to you._

At once, the thought startled, and unnerved her. There was a time when she wasn't afraid of anything. Then there was a time when she was afraid of her own government. Now, it seemed what she feared most was…_herself_.

Peter Parker lay prone on the couch while Mary Jane splinted his arms and ankles. She began winding them with bandages.

_Thank the good Lord I took CPR classes in college…_

"I cleaned out all the bloody goo and dressed your wounds, Peter. I _still_ don't see why you don't go to the hospital—"

"Here we go again. I _told_ you why. Two words: secret identity."

Mary Jane's cell phone rang. It was Osborn. She rushed outside, out of her husband's earshot.

"Any news?"

"My husband told me that Octavius had figured out how to make himself invisible—some kind of holographic cloaking device. Peter showed it to me, he brought home a—"

"Bracelet?"

"Yes, how would you know?"

"It would place him at the Convention Center, at the International Science and Engineering Convention. I like to visit those sort of things myself sometimes, not _nearly_ as much as Octavius, _he_ can appreciate them far better than I, heh heh."

"But wait, my husband fought him at the Oscorp laboratories. He was stealing tritium."

"Good Lord, that again? And?"

MJ fell silent. She was blackmailed into this distasteful job, but she was not going to allow Osborn the pleasure of knowing her husband lay wounded on the couch.

"Don't mess with me, Mary Jane. I _will_ carry out my threat." She hung up just as Peter walked outside.

"How are you feeling, tiger?"

He grinned. "Better. There are some uses to an enhanced metabolism, after all. How are the kids?"

"I'm going to tuck Ben and May in right now."

But Peter wondered what would make his lovely wife look like the stars had just gone out.

At Pier 56, on the East River, the mad scientist calling this place home was putting the finishing touches on his brand spankin new radiation ray.

"Octavia, hand me that metal support, please."

The clone used her tentacles to pick the huge girder up. But suddenly, her knees buckled under her and she collapsed to the ground.

Otto rushed to the girl and put his hand on her cheek. "Good Lord, you're burning up! How'd you get so sick?"

He knew exactly what to do. The ray was all but forgotten. The villain picked up the daughter who was not really a daughter at all, and abandoned the project.

Peter Parker unwound his bandages. His wrists and ankles were working nearly perfectly now. Unfortunately, his spider-web producing glands would not recharge until about twenty-four hours from now. His cell phone rang.

"We've got a lead on him," said Agent Cypher. "Meet me at the Empire State Building, if not sooner."

"Cypher, my wrists are healed, but I won't be able to shoot web until—"

"The scientists at the SDSI-CIA lab have rigged up a pair of mechanical web-shooters for you after I explained what happened. We were able to construct a basic triggering device using synthetic polymer. Not the real McCoy, but they'll co. How are your wrists working? Can you climb walls yet?"

"All better. Nothing like enhanced healing to cure what ails you. I'll see you there."

Then he kissed Mary Jane goodbye, not a peck on the cheek as he had often done lately, but a full, long kiss on the lips that seemed to last forever.

"I have to go squid hunting now. And after this is through, maybe we'll take a long vacation _away_ from scientists, mad or otherwise, or super-villains, or government agents—"

"Just go do what you do. Go get 'em, tiger." Mary Jane watched him speed off on his motorcycle. "God, protect him," she whispered. "I love him so much."

_Ah, where's the fat freak going now?_ The Green Goblin lowered his glider a little closer. As he saw it, he could wait for the bug and the agent to deal with him, but according to his sources, they were injured fighting the squids in his lab. So, he could do it himself, take the clone to Carlyle, and get his money.

What was the clone to him? An experiment; government property Uncle Sam wanted back. And her model—well, the old man was _competition_.

The Green Goblin slowly drew a pumpkin bomb from his bag, but thought better of it. They wanted the clone _alive_. He slipped it in his bag again.

It was going to have to be hand to hand. Well, hand to _arm_.

"My source has informed us that he is trailing Octavius down this road—" Cypher traced the line on the computerized map of the car's navigational system.

Spidey had a sudden realization. "He's heading for Phoebus General Hospital!"

"Why?" asked Cypher blankly.

* * *

Why is Octavia so sick? Who will win the battle between Spidey's two archenemies? Will Cypher get her man? Find out in Chapter 14, the next thrilling installment of Nature Versus Nurture 2...coming soon! 


	14. fate

All the answers (to _almost_ every question)are revealed! Only the epilouge is next after this!

Chapter 14: The Crimes of Fate

"_Perverse Mankind! Whose wills, created free,_

_Charge all their woes on absolute Decree;_

_All to the dooming Gods their guilt translate;_

_And follies are miscalled the crimes of Fate."_

_--_Homer's_ Odyssey, _translated by Alexander Pope

Dr. Otto Octavius, also known as Doctor Octopus, cradled his sick "daughter" in his real arms. His tentacles were coiled like rattlesnakes about to strike at the rival super-villain standing before him with a distinctly menacing grin on his face. "We're on the same side. Don't you have a bug to swat?"

"_That _can wait. And I'm _not_ on your side. I want the girl. The government agents are swarming the city. They want _her_ and they want _me_ to bring her in."

"I don't understand."

"The Subdivision of Scientific Intelligence of the CIA hired me to bring her in. You're in over your head this time, Octavius. She's _not_ your daughter; she's your _clone_, a lab rat in the government's latest super soldier project. I just came over so I could take before the bug and the government agent with him got here—and then collect my money."

_And I thought I'd seen it all_, the doctor thought numbly. _Norman and Peter are working together—against me!_

"I won't let you take her from me! Don't you see she's—" he pleaded.

"Enough talk." Purple-gloved hands reached for metal arms, and the battle was on.

The black sedan screeched to a halt. "Good Lord! There's the hostage on that bench!" Agent Cypher, of the SDSI of the CIA, shouted to the superhero. "Spider-Man—you go after the squid while I retrieve the girl!"

"No way!" Spidey's injuries at Oscorp were still too fresh in his mind. He pointed out the window to where his two archenemies were fighting it out on the street. "If they kill each other, it's just easier on _me_!" He paused to think. "Why is Green Goblin involved in this?"

"You're not here for the Goblin, Spider-Man. Our business is with the Octopus, and you will act accordingly!"

Meanwhile, all the cars on that street were stopped and everyone was craning their necks out the windows. They wanted to see the fun. Apparently, someone had also taken out a camera cell phone and was snapping pictures.

In the meantime at the Nicholas house in Venice, Jordan Nicholas was shouting at her father. "Daddy! Come here and look at this!"

Anthony put down his leftover pizza. Daisy dropped her pop-tart. "In breaking news," intoned a pompous female voice on the television, "it's a battle royale in front of Phoebus General Hospital. The super-vigilante Spider-Man is pursuing the mad scientist Doctor Octopus, who has held a teenage girl, Octavia Jones of Venice, hostage for two weeks. For reasons unknown, another supervillain, Green Goblin, has joined the fray. Let's cut to our live reporter, Ann Anderson—"

"Get your coats!" Anthony had fairly leapt out of his chair. "We're not going to let the Illuminati get her this time! Daisy, get the car keys!"

"But I haven't finished my pop-tart—" Daisy sputtered. "They say the situation is under control—"

"The keys are on the rack by the front door!" Anthony shouted, in such an excitement that his jacket was inside out. "Everyone knows the Freemasons control the media anyway!" After hopping to the door and tying his shoe at the same time, Anthony shoved his hand down his waistband and entered into another vigorous round of ass-scratching.

Goblin never realized a basic fact of life—nothing, but _nothing_, fights harder than a parent for their child. Goblin was knocked to the side by two madly whipping tentacles—and Cypher, who was reaching for Octavia, was hit by another one.

"Get the girl!" she croaked, landing on her back. "I'll be alright in just a few minutes."

Spidey stepped out of the car and lurched towards the girl. His spidey-sense warned him just in time to leap over the tentacle snapping towards him. "Now really! I'm just trying to help the girl—_oof!_" He leapt out of the way of another tentacle. _God, I wish he would listen to people just once._

Cypher had stumbled to Octavia. "Good Lord! She's burning up and barely conscious! What did you do to her!"

Now that all four tentacles were occupied with the Goblin (who was throwing razor bat wings; two tentacles were forming a shield around their master while the other two were in combat), Spidey had staggered there as well. He was kneeling by Octavia's prostrate form while the two villains were fighting.

The girl herself was almost unconscious, but her tentacles were acting out of reflex; one, in fact, had reared up at Spidey, preparing to strike. It popped out its lethal blade.

In a final act of desperation, Octavia weakly raised her arms, her own two very _human_ arms, and pulled it back down.

"No. No more of that. No--more--killing."

Now, everyone was getting out of their cars and running down the street, because Goblin had just lifted a car and thrown it at Doc Ock, and the car was batted back with a tentacle just as soon. A man in a fancy business suit, obviously the hapless owner of that car, was yelling into his cell phone.

"_What?_ What do you mean, your company doesn't cover that? What was I _supposed_ to do, pay extra for the 'Car-thrown-into-air-by-supervillain' supplement coverage?"

"We've got to call her family!" Spidey shouted. "She's _dying_ over here!"

"The girl _has_ no family, fool!" he heard Goblin's voice cackle. "She's not even a person, she's an experiment, an abomination, a clone of _this_ fat freak!"

"_I_ can go on a diet, but _you'll _stay ugly forever!" the doctor retorted. And with that, Goblin's fist met squarely of Otto's jaw, spinning him over _another_ car and onto the street.

Jordan and Daisy screeched as a trench-coat-wearing man flew right onto the windshield and rolled right onto the sidewalk.

"What the _hell_ was _that_?" yelled Daisy.

"_That_, Daisy," shouted Anthony in sudden recognition, "is your best pal's old man!"

Octavius' bonelessly limp body lay pinned between two cars, which had been long abandoned by their owners. Agent Cypher leapt to his side, and pointed a gun straight at his head.

"Agent Cypher! What the hell are you doing!"

"What does it _look_ like, Spider-Man? I'm blowing his brains out!"

"You _can't_! He's a super-criminal, yes, but he has to be _arrested_! He has to stand _trial_!" Spidey desperately webbed the gun out of her hands.

"Don't you understand? My mission, given to me by the CIA, is Operation Apollo: the assassination of Dr. Otto Octavius. Those are my orders: I'm just following them."

"That's what the Nazis said," Spidey said coldly. "'_We didn't want to kill all those Jews, but those were our orders, and we were just following them._'"

"A frivolous and untrue comparison," replied Cypher. "The Jews were innocent. He murdered my mother! She was a neurosurgeon doing her job and the next thing she's swinging a chainsaw at her patient's _tentacles_—" Cypher's face was slick with tears. "Let me get it over with before he comes to!" She took out a _second_ handgun and pressed it against the doctor's head. "This is for my mother, you—"

Spidey grabbed her arm with desperate strength, so hard he could almost feel small bones grinding in her forearms. "Would your mother wish you to murder someone for her? Would your mother wish you to lower yourself to her killer's level?"

Cypher's hand started shaking madly. After a few minutes of thought, she dropped the gun.

"The girl's dying, Agent. Is it true? Is she his clone?"

"Yes, Spider-Man. She was the subject of a government experiment, and I was sent to retrieve her."

"That explains it. Her body's shutting down. Don't you understand? It took millions of years of evolution—or extensive fine-tuning by an Intelligent Designer, whatever you believe—to perfect sexual reproduction. How can man presume they can replace God and create another person and not consider the consequences? Almost every attempt to clone resulted in the death of the embryo and those few born alive have suffered severe genetic defects. Even Dolly the famous sheep died much too early for a sheep. It's a miracle she made it this long—the processes of puberty are overstressing a body probably wracked by abnormalities. How many more lives will you government people destroy?"

"Stand back! I have an idea!"

"And just _how_ are _you_ involved in this, Goblin?" Spidey's voice hardened.

"My role in this sordid affair is really none of your business, but the clone is worth more to me alive than dead." Goblin drew out of his bag a fairly large vial of green liquid. "This is the Oz Formula—the chemicals that gave me my strength, the chemicals that healed my body stronger than ever after you saw fit to run me through my own glider. It would reverse the effects of the girl's cellular degeneration."

Agent Cypher blinked. "Should we?"

Spidey looked at Doctor Octopus—he was still out for the count. "Might as well. Her _father_ certainly isn't saying anything to the contrary."

Goblin rolled up Octavia's sleeve and plunged the needle into her right arm. "It's only as much as I'd do for my own daughter."

* * *

Who woulda thunk Green Goblin would actually end up _saving_ someone rather than _killing_ them? Next, the exciting epilouge, The Sixth Day! Watch out for the exciting conclusion, coming soon to a computer near you! 


	15. the sixth day

Chapter 15: Epilogue: The Sixth Day

"_What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow_

_Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, _

_You cannot say, or guess, for you know only _

_A heap of broken images, where the sun beats_

_And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief_

_And the dry stone no sound of water. Only_

_There is shadow under the red rock_

_(Come in under the shadow of this red rock)_

_And I will show you something different from either_

_Your shadow at morning striding behind you _

_Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you._

_I will show you fear in a handful of dust."_

_--_T.S. Eliot_, The Waste Land_

"Peter, I…just can't keep the secrets anymore. I've been hiding so much from you, and I was supposed to be the one you could trust with _your_ secrets…"

Peter Parker, cradled his wife, Mary Jane, in his arms. Little Ben and May were finally asleep, too young yet to know the yoke their father was fated to bear.

"The baby I had after Ben and placed for adoption, the one I never told you about until after May was born—"

"Forget her. That baby is in the past. Little May and little Ben, and _me_, we are your family."

"—she was Harry Osborn's daughter. I betrayed you. I betrayed our family."

_The child didn't have that look newborn babies always had—squashed, slit-eyed, and bawling at the indignity of being forcibly dragged out of the cozy womb into the cold world above. This one's eyes were wide open, and she looked like someone ready to take charge. _I am here_, her look seemed to say. _Watch out, and get the hell out of my way, or you'll be dealt with_. And she was exceptionally beautiful, which newborn babies also rarely are. Her skin was creamy porcelain, her eyes the color of glisteningly lovely but forbidding icebergs. Her hair was a cloud of lustrous, soft, deep auburn curls. She was a _big_ baby, too. Everyone there fell in love with this beautiful child. _

_Everyone, that is, except the child's own mother, looking pale and exhausted after the hard birth. Mary Jane Watson-Parker turned her head away from the baby girl._

"_Take it away. I don't want it."_

Peter, oh Peter,_ she thought, _if you ever saw this baby, you would see my betrayal in her face and never forgive me.

"_You could sign the papers. Relinquish your parental rights. She'd be given up for adoption."_

_Mary Jane thought that was a good idea. Give the child up for adoption. Preferably to some elderly couple in some Podunk cornfield clearing in Kansas, well away from its murderous monster of a paternal grandfather. Well away from his perverted legacy._

_She was still sleepy from the anesthetics. She did not notice the tall, auburn-haired, nattily dressed man enter the hospital—until it was too late. _

_She could not find the strength to lift herself off the bed as the monster hastily signed the paperwork and cradled his infant granddaughter._

_Her screams were lodged in her throat, her protests locked in her soul forever. _

"Oh, what have I _done_?"

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have forgiven you. I would have raised her, don't you understand. Harry was my best pal. It was the least I could do for him."

But the damage was done; it could never be undone. She hung onto her husband for dear life. How could she selfishly betray her husband and young son for a _fling_—and why did she have the oddly sinking feeling that the true consequences of that betrayal were still to come?

The ten-month-old girl solemnly scooped out the baby food from the plastic tub with her fork and brought the pasta to her mouth—a little awkwardly, but just like a grownup. Her grandfather had taught her well.

"Someday, Noreen," he mused to his beautiful auburn-haired, blue-eyed girl, "I will tell you about how Spider-Man murdered your father and made your mother go away, and why you must kill him…but not now. It can wait. I love you, Noreen. You're the son I never had."

The mad scientist bobbed the olive up and down his martini with a black-gloved finger. _A family_, he thought. _That makes life worth living. Someone you can love, who will love you in return._ He fiddled with the Irish claddaugh wedding ring he still wore, even though his wife, Rosalie, had died years before. Comprised of a band with two hands holding a crowned heart, it symbolized love, loyalty, and friendship. And he remembered why he never had a family.

"_Otto, we could have a couple of kids together…get away from New York City and move to the suburbs. We could finally be a family. A _real_ family, the kind we never had—"_

"_Rosie, do you know how much kids _cost_! I don't have time to raise kids now. These teenagers today—they'd pay more attention to the latest episode of _Survivor_ than the world of science. Rather blast rock music on their iPods than learn anything. My career is just starting to take off, and—"_

"_You worry about your career too much, dear. With your genius, you could work at home and teleconference with Oscorp—"_

"_Look, _dear_, if I don't get this nuclear fusion project done, we won't have enough money to feed _ourselves_, let alone a passel of kids. You're still quite a young woman, Rosie. We'll have plenty of time for kids and the home in the suburbs with the white picket fence. Plenty."_

He'd had that conversation, he realized, just a mere month before the accident. _The_ accident, of course, that turned him into Doctor Octopus. Now Rosie was dead, he never had his family, and of course no one is ever told what _would have_ happened.

"Ahem…" A statuesque, red-haired woman, classily dressed in a red business suit (that _terribly_ clashed with her hair) was hovering over him. The doctor resented the interruption of his reverie. "What do you want, lady?" he growled.

"Well, excuse me! I just want to have a drink! Is this barstool taken, or not?" She pointed to the empty barstool to the right of him.

"No it isn't. Sorry for snapping at you like that."

"That's okay," the redhead replied genially. "Bartender! A tequila, please! Oh," she continued to the scientist, "I didn't quite catch your name."

He held out a black-gloved hand. "Dr. Otto Octavius."

"Anna Smith, Esquire. Here for family problems?"

"You have _no_ idea, lady…"

"Ah! Nothing like a field trip to cure what ails ya!" Jordan Nicholas stretched in her seat on the school bus driving to the Museum of Natural History. "Away from scientists, mad or otherwise, secret agents, superheroes, government intrigue…"

Octavia Jones grinned and adjusted the collar of her trench coat. "Amen to that, sister! Couldn't agree with you more!"

"Let's get a move on! We're here!" Daisy Gatsby called as the students filed out.

Octavia couldn't believe it was only a day after her brush with death. It was Friday, and the day before Rosh Hashanah—the Jewish holiday believed to mark the completion of God's creation.

Today was the anniversary of uncounted years since God created man.

"No need to stick together!" the chaperone yelled to the class. "Feel free to, you know, fan out and look at the exhibits…"

After walking a short way, Octavia paused to stare at a mural. She recognized it, but everyone could; you have seen it hundreds of times in textbooks or parodied in cartoons. It depicted a line of life-forms, starting with a microscopic water organism, eventually evolving into amphibians crawling out of the water, then four legged hairy creatures which gradually changed into a caveman, and then to Modern Man.

Was that how it happened? Or was there really a God who created man fully formed and woman from his rib? Or was there a middle road—that God used the methods of evolution to fine-tune His creation? Was it Nature, or Nurture, that made her tick? There had to be a middle way on this—that humans lay somewhere between the extreme genetic determinism of the Nazis and the extreme environmental determinism of the Communists. And did Free Will really exist, or was it all just based on biochemical reactions in the brain?

Octavia took off her trench coat and carefully tied it to conceal her tentacles. She was wearing a green tank top underneath. A handsome, brown-haired hunk of a teenage guy had paused beside her to look at the mural. He flashed her a cocky grin full of perfect white teeth. "So, what's your name?"

"Octavia Jones." That was her true identity, after all. First name from Nature and last name from Nurture.

"My name's Macendale Jackson, but all my pals call me Mack, so you might as well, too," he said genially. Octavia noticed that Mack's eyes had settled on her right shoulder, where she bore the mark of her identity, the mark that set her apart: a tiny, dark brown octopus. "Cool birthmark," he said.

"It's not exactly a birthmark, Mack."

"It's not exactly a tattoo either, I know," Mack replied serenely. In response, he pulled up his t-shirt sleeve past his right shoulder to reveal—

A tiny, dark brown, perfectly formed scorpion.

* * *

So, Nature Versus Nurture ends, tying into the beginning of the Austin series...Octavia finds out there's another clone, the evil Norman starts twisting his young granddaughter's mind, and Otto meets his baby-momma Anna. Ah! Is this the end? It's been a nice time! 


End file.
